Help Me
by LunaEquus
Summary: Ever wondered about the events leading up to Gemma and Kartik's first meeting? See the day from Kartik's eyes. Pairingless.


**Many thanks to Myrah for the idea for this story! I hope I've done it justice. Enjoy!**

The scene is rowdy, rambunctious, and overwhelming. Women, some girls not much older than I, dance in a way I have never seen the likes of. Their colorful, yet minimal clothing swirls along with the scarves they hold. Sequins and gems dazzle and sparkle in the dim lights, piercing through the smoky haze and holding me captive like the swaying of their hips. I watch silently, though the men around me whoop and cheer the dancers on, and call for more drink, more tobacco for their hookah. Next to me, my brother claps me on the back and hands me a pint of ale.

"Drink up, Kartik, today you are a man," says Amar cheerily. He turns to the men around us, all of them members of the Rakshana, all of them my family. "It seems like just yesterday that little Kartik started his training." The men chuckle at my expense.

"Couldn't even hold a sword," one says, shaking his head.

"Shorter than a girl of his age," says another. My cheeks burn in embarrassment. The want to celebrate escapes me as my mood darkens. Amar senses this, and he bails me out as always.

"But look at him now! Little Kartik is all grown up," he says, feigning sentimentality. He glances over to the dancers and drops his voice so that only I may hear. "It seems you've caught yourself an admirer."

I look up curiously and lock eyes with a girl about my age. She is attractive, with dark eyes lined in kohl and gold chains encircling her waist. She winks at me and wriggles her hips seductively. The room suddenly feels hotter.

Amar laughs. "Shall I buy you two a room?"

Should he? For a moment I consider the possibilities that would entail. I'd fully be a man, not just by education, but by experience as well. The idea is titillating and well, daunting as well. I've no familiarity with the act, and I feel as if I'll just embarrass myself, not to mention the girl too. And I do not know her; it just doesn't seem right.

"No," I say sheepishly. "I'd rather stay here."

Amar laughs again. "Good choice, little brother. We are far better company, I'm sure."

I cannot help but let a smile crack through my darkened mood. After all, I am the reason for this celebration. I have received my first assignment – to protect a priestess of the Order, no matter what it entails. I am not too worried, for I know Amar has had no particular troubles with his respective priestess. It seems like an easy task, one I should not have trouble executing, for my loyalty to the Rakshana is greater than any other feeling I've ever had. This is my destiny; I recognize it with a surge of pride.

Amar leans in close. "Are you excited about your first task?"

"I cannot wait to prove my worth as a member of the Rakshana," I say.

"You know, I'm the guardian of the girl's mother," he says.

"What girl?" I ask, thinking of the dancer I locked eyes with.

"The priestess you are to watch over."

"Oh."

He frowns at my silence. "Have you any questions about her?"

I shrug. "What is there to know? I act on my orders and she follows what I say."

Amar raises his eyebrows. "There is much more to it than that. You must respect her, work _with _her. These women are very powerful, especially yours."

I feel another swelling of pride. The Rakshana have trusted me enough with an extremely powerful priestess. They wouldn't have if they didn't believe I had the potential.

"Well it shouldn't be too difficult. English women are very polite and agreeable, aren't they?"

Amar raises his eyes briefly to the ceiling. I know it as a sign that he thinks I'm acting difficult. "English _women _may be, Kartik, but this one is just a girl." He's holding something back, I can sense it. "She's as stubborn as a mule," he says finally, throwing up his hands.

Wonderful. I certainly have my work cut out for me now. "Well I hope she doesn't look like one," I say.

Amar chuckles and hands me a journal of sorts. "Here, get to know her."

I pull the lantern closer and open the journal, ignoring the jibes from the men around me.

"Always reading, that boy is."

"Who can read when you have _this_? These women are too fine to ignore."

The journal seems to be a compilation of information on the priestess I am to guard. The first page shows a picture of her, posing stiffly for the camera. Through the film grain and tones of sepia, her eyes pierce through me. "Help me," they seem to say. She is a pretty girl, but her face is a blank slate for the photographer.

Below the picture is a brief summary of her lineage and family, ending with her name. "Gemma Rose Doyle," I whisper, trying the name on my tongue. I might as well get used to it, for this girl is to be my future.

Amar glances at me. "What do you think?" he asks.

"Interesting," I reply aloofly. I flip through the other pages. They, too, have information about her and her family. I suppose I should know this, know her, for the sake of my task, but it feels like I'm sort of stalker or worse. I suppose I'd rather get to know her for myself.

I close the book and toss it into my rucksack without a thought. The future is for duties and responsibility, but for now I am content to have no worries.

"Her husband almost caught us," the man on my other side says to a few others.

"Who?" I ask, cutting into the conversation.

He gives me a sly smile. "My priestess and I have a bit of an _understanding_, if you follow, Kartik." He laughs. "Don't look so surprised! Most of us do."

I turn to my brother. "Amar, you don't…do you?"

He shakes his head and smiles. "Mrs. Doyle is not that sort of woman, but a little good-natured flirting never hurt anyone." He nudges me with his elbow. "Her daughter is about your age, Kartik. Maybe the two of you will _come to an understanding_ as well."

He means it as a joke but I cannot help but feel a bit scandalized. I've never even met the girl and already I am destined to jeopardize her future marriage. It's all very silly.

Suddenly a man appears out of the smoky haze and bends to whisper something to my brother. I watch curiously as Amar's eyes widen and then set in determination. He turns to me, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Kartik, we must go."

"Where?"

"There is no time to explain."

We stand up and make our way to the exit, followed all the way by numerous "good lucks" and a loud drunken "he's a big boy now".

Once out on the street, Amar pulls on his disguise as a merchant. I can sense that something important is going to happen.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" I ask, keeping pace with him. He stops right before the marketplace.

"I'm very proud of you, Kartik," he says, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Your destiny is about to reveal itself."

I swallow the bit of fear that has been creeping into my throat, making it harder to breathe. My brother's cryptic way of saying things is no surprise, though I wish he had something more reassuring to say. Amar gazes into the nearby crowds.

"That man back there," he says. "He told me something very troubling. Your priestess is in grave danger, I'm afraid."

_Which means that you are as well. _It goes unsaid, but I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. I swallow again, hard. My fear is not so easily dispelled this time.

"Circe is on her trail. Trackers have been spotted. We've already wasted too much time," he says. "We must find her. And her mother."

Without a word, I push into the crowd. There is no time for hesitation. Amar catches up to me quickly, taking the lead. "There," he says breathlessly. As we approach, I can see three women talking, one Indian servant, and two English women with golden red hair. Amar bumps into Mrs. Doyle, and I lock eyes with her daughter.

For the first time in perhaps my life, I am stunned. Her eyes are striking, eerily beautiful. She is no belly dancer, but she holds me in a spell all her own. I look away, determined not to lose sight of the task at hand. Amar leads me away quickly.

"We must round up the others," he says. "Miss Doyle is to be escorted to safety."

We haven't been walking for a minute before Mrs. Doyle catches up to us.

"Gemma," she says tearfully. "Gemma ran off!"

It takes only a moment to digest this. Amar turns to me, but I already know what I must do. The girl is my responsibility now. "I will find her," I shout, already running a few paces away.

Adrenaline thrums through my veins, but training has taught me to keep my mind sharp. I scan the market and side streets quickly, looking for a hint of red hair among a sea of black. I am running on instinct now. _Bring me to her. _I pray to whatever answers that I shall find her before Circe does.

And then I see her, standing still in the middle of a deserted alley. Temporary relief spreads through my chest. I start towards her; she is afraid, terrified really, frozen by fear. Does she know what is out there looking for her? But I am here, and I won't let them take her.

She means to run, but something stops her. She falls to the ground as I reach her. She stares up at me in terror, her lips parting, but no sound escaping, and her eyes…Her eyes, the same ones from the picture, still seem to say the same thing.

_Help me._

_I'm trying._

And suddenly she is slipping away from consciousness. Eyelids close over her desperate eyes. Beautiful eyes. "It's happening," I say, hoping to reassure her. Surely she knows what happens to priestesses like her on their sixteenth birthday. They have visions, their first of many to come, or so I've been told.

And then she is back, screaming wildly. I pin her down to prevent her from escaping. "What did you see? Tell me!" I yell desperately over her screams.

She fights me madly, and suddenly I am struck with a new fear. What if she has seen something terrible? What if Circe has found her mother…and my brother?

"Did you see my brother?"

"Let me go!"

She kicks out at me, striking me in my most delicate place. Pain shoots upwards into my stomach and my strength leaves me, just as she finds hers. I fall to the ground and she takes off, running.

Through the throbbing physical pain, a harsher reality stings me. I've let her get away and now she is in greater danger than before. My sense returns to me. I get to my feet and shake myself off. As I run after the priestess, wincing in pain, I cannot help but wonder how much different the state of my nether regions would be in if I had accepted my brother's previous offer at the tavern.

My brother. Is he alright? I quicken my pace, fueled by fear and determination. _Find the girl first, and then find Amar. _Everything will be okay. The girl will go with her mother, and Amar and I can get back to celebrating. I'll meet her again at a different time and she will apologize for jeopardizing my manhood and we will laugh over it. It'll be fine.

Try as I may, I cannot reassure myself. Her scream finds me before I find her. The scene that unfolds is almost too much to bear. A crowd surrounds the area in front of an herb shop. The girl – Miss Doyle – is collapsed in front of…

I clap my hand over my mouth in shock. Mrs. Doyle lies dead upon the ground, blood spreading around her like a mandala. My stomach lurches.

_Where is Amar?_

I feel a tap on my shoulder. My heart leaps, hoping that it's my brother, come to pull me away from this mess. Instead, some of the Rakshana stand before me, their expressions grim.

I feel like I'm floating as I follow them, a mantra playing in my head. _He's okay, he must be. He's okay, he's okay, he's okay…_

"Kartik," a man says quietly, once we are far from the crowd. "Amar has been…murdered."

My hearts stops and my blood runs cold. "No," I say, my voice strangled.

They exchange uncomfortable glances.

"It was Circe's tracker. He's gone."

Bile rises in my throat. It hurts to breathe. I cannot breathe. "You're wrong," I say.

"I'm sorry…"

"YOU'RE WRONG!"

He falls silent. I have no conscience left to be ashamed. "You did well today, Kartik," he says quietly. The men leave me to my misery.

I sink to the ground, clutching my head in my hands. The sharp edge of the journal pokes me through my rucksack. I pull it out furiously, clumsily.

"It's your fault," I hiss to the picture of the damned priestess. "You knew the danger, but you ran away. It's all your bloody fault!" I flip the pages angrily, wishing to hurt her with every tear I make in the paper.

Something catches my eye on the page. I read it a few times, not believing the words. Despite my anger, my need to blame somebody, my hatred towards her melts.

"She didn't know," I whisper. They never told her what she was. "She didn't…," I repeat weakly. Amar is gone. Her mother is gone. "…know." I am not just alone in this alley; I am alone in this world. And still I must carry on. My duty was to protect her, but I did that, right?

"No, no, no." I clutch at my hair as tears sting my eyes. This is just a bad dream. I drank too much ale and smoked too much hookah and I am laying naked in a bed somewhere while that dancer shows off the finer points of dancing. I was a poor performer, but she didn't care. Oh please, I would take that humility over this. _Anything_ over this.

From the ground, my priestess stares up at me. I see her eyes and what they've been saying all along. But it is only now that I commiserate with her.

"Help me," I say, letting the tears fall.

**...Comments? I'm mildly surprised no one's ever done this before. I'm fairly proud of my attempt, but what do you think?**

**What? A story involving Gemma and Kartik with no romance? Preposterous! **

**Please review!**

**Likes saying things are canon now that she knows what canon means,  
LunaEquus**


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